Once upon a time, our little Gamin Publishing was on the brink of collapse. I’m the executive assistant to Helene Pascal, the co-CEO of Bexley & Gamin. The first thing to know about me: My name is Lucy Hutton. Like everything we do, it’s dreadfully immature. We’re engaged in one of our childish games, which requires no words. Each tick of his watch feels like another tally mark, chipped onto the cell wall.
I wish I was in solitary confinement, but unfortunately I have a cellmate. I’m imprisoned at my desk for another few hours. You’re consumed, and it scares you.īoth love and hate are mirror versions of the same game-and you have to win. Every interaction spikes your blood with a dangerous kind of adrenaline, and you’re on the brink of fight or flight. The heart in your chest beats heavy and bright, nearly visible through your flesh and clothes. Your stomach twists at the thought of that person. I’ve had a lot of time to compare love and hate, and these are my observations. Hating someone feels disturbingly similar to being in love with them.
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